Vampire's Doll
by checkprofile4newaccount
Summary: HPDM SLASH!ON HIATUS A porcelain doll, milky skin, silky blonde locks, mesmerizing silver eyes a Veela bound by dark magic. A ray of dark light, shadow hair with taunting emerald eyes, beckoning to come closer a Vampire that chased after him
1. Prologue: Inheritance

(A/N: due to a PM from a faithful reviewer of mine, I was to do a Harry Potter fanfiction where someone had to be a vampire. So this is a bit of a challenge, but I don't mind really, since vampires are so cool, and yeah. This will put Chess Piece and Paopu For You to a short hiatus until I figure out what to do with them. The plot's getting nowhere. Aynway, this is not related to the manga Vampire Doll in any way or form, I haven't read that manga either; eh, enjoy and beware.)

Disclaimer: I have to write this otherwise people would sue me. Alright, I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters, they all belong to the brilliant mastermind that is J. K. Rowling. I just have fun messing with her characters, so there is no need to take my three dollars and twenty-one cents.

oh, and SIRIUS IS STILL ALIVE THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER BOOK 5 SINCE I CANNOT STAND PADDY BEING DEAD. It was so sad, I had a tantrum; which I rarely do.

... moving along.

ps- I'm not British; I use USA spelling.

Vampire's Doll

Prologue: Inheritance

Harry Potter's Point of View

I, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived (to be more accurate, the Boy-Who-Just-Will-Not-Die to a certain dark lord), the supposed Savior of the Wizarding World, the Golden Boy, the idol of Witch Weekly, the spotlight of the Daily Prophet, the main feature of the Quibbler, the now seventeen-year-old, am no more than a creature of the darkness. It was funny, really, I thought I was on the light side. Somewhere along the road, it went terribly wrong.

I wouldn't say horribly wrong, oh no, not at all. For this wasn't the first time something negative had happened to me, but I must say that I am suprised, very suprised. I was just sitting here, on my bed after cleaning the Dursley's dishes, wishing myself a happy seventeenth birthday. It was late night, about eleven. The Dursley's had Aunt Marge over again, that pug-faced woman who I was definitely not happy to see. On the brighter side of the evening, none mentioned about that little incident when I inflated her to the size of a giant balloon at the age of twelve. That moment was priceless. Scary, but priceless. If one could have seen the look on her face... I really wanted a camera. Of course, people only sold digital cameras now and I highly doubt that electronics would work in the presence of the magic surrounding Hogwarts. Ah, I am rambling.

Anyways, after dinner the Dursleys had a parting with Aunt Marge, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The three Dursleys, tired from what ever the reason may be, made their way up to their respected rooms. Of course, not with Uncle Vernon painfully reminding me first that I had to do the dishes. Ho hum, I've forgotten all about the bruise. ... I was doing the dishes, with much hurry of course, since the clock was ticking. By wizarding standards, I was going to become legal of age, and I surely didn't want that moment to be when I was bending over the sink, trying to scrub that last oil stain of a few million glass plates. After I finished, there was about half an hour until midnight, so I quietly made my way to the cupboard. Ah yes, the cupboard. They had locked me back there due to the strange normalacy of sixth year. Figuring that I could not do magic without the fear of spending the rest of my life in Azkaban, it was cupboard time for me.

Of course, there was the option of living with Sirius; but in the Department of Mysteries in fifth year, he was badly injured and still believed to be the murderer of man. Peter Pettigrew had resumed the rat animagus form and fled into a nearby shadow. Sirius apparated out before the Ministry could come, but if I lived with him it would be suspicious and I wouldn't want to put my Godfather in that kind of danger. Even though Grimmauld Place was a place of suspicion, there was no reason for me to meddle in the "conversation between the organzied and adult witches and wizards." (A/N: see? I couldn't never kill poor Paddy. Rowling was evil doing that, but we still love and worship her greatly nevertheless. Dumbledore is still alive, the 6th book never happened).

I do tend to ramble a lot, don't I? Well, everything was going normal that night. I made my way to the cupboard, slightly suprised to see Hedwig out of her perch. Ever since we had gone back here to the old room at the end of fifth year, Hedwig haven't been getting enough of her nighly exercise or food. I took the little piece of meat I scrapped from the leftover dishes and fed her while she cooed contently. The small alarm clock showed 11:45. It was then that I noticed that something was moving. Squinting, I stared at the figure, readjusting my glasses.

"Dobby?"

"Oh, Harry Potter sir," the house-elf looked very startled to see me. "I was called by Harry Potter's friends to drop by his birthday presents. That was the last one. Wishes to Harry Potter a merry birthday."

With that, he went pop. Just a small pop, but a pop nonetheless. I strained my ears in caution to hear if anyone woke up: no one, good. Dobby had acted a bit weird than he normally did. I sat on the little cot I called a bed to see a strange book. It was a black leatherbound hardcover with a lovely cursive-fonted title. That reminded me of Malfoy's handwriting.. strange. I squinted at the title, dissapointed that there was not much of an adequate source of light.. one 20 Volt lightbulb doesn't do much. Finally, I read the title: Inheriting the Vampire.

Vampire? That sounds like something Hagrid would be into. I thought again; nah, probably not. Hagrid was into acromantulas and blast-ended skerwts, and more of the multi-legged creatures (i'm referring to 3 or more), incapable of human speech. Vampires were an alternate topic. They were like the fair Veelas, except deadlier and could abandon their mate without dying. Now this really brought me to thoughts. I didn't own the book, so it must be a gift. I wondered who...

A small piece of parchment fell out of the book. There was a difficult but recognizable handwriting that I knew all too well.

_Dear Harry,_

_Congrats on living to seventeen-years-old. It means now that you're a legal adult in the wizarding world. So, what do you think? Up to legally "defend yourself" against those troublesome muggle relatives? You can live on your own now, so feel free to come to Grimmauld Place. You have access to your bank in Gringotts now, I trust you are sensible enough not to spend it all. Otherwise, I suppose it would be nice to have a companion with me in here. The house gets lonely a lot. The Order are barely here, and the portrait of my wonderful mother is still hanging there, beautifully screaming obscene words and curses. Just the life, is it not?_

_Anyway, I need to tell you something important. Or perhaps you would figure it out by yourself. I hope this book guides you. Whatever you do, DO NOT think biting your self would solve your hunger issues, because it just does not work. If you are hungry, go raid the fridge. I've sent a few packets of blood attached at the end of this letter (shrunken, of course. Don't worry, if you squeese these they'll un-shrink). You are to drink ONE daily, at least until we get you out of that dreadful place._

_In response to your last letter, yes I am still alive. Otherwise, who would you think this is writing do you? The Grim? Haha, your old Divintation teacher was a funny one. Seriously, big black dog could have just done it, but the Grim? She's definitely gone ballistic. Dudley's not getting any better, is he? I hope your ankle's alright, shame you can't heal it with magic. Sorry I can't be there to help you and all, situation's tight at times. Now my mother's screaming again, something about keeping myself tidy. Catch you later Harry, hope you follow your common sense and not your instincts, we wouldn't want another dark lord on the rise, do we? Nah, one's just enough._

_With much love and air hugs,_

_Snuffles (pawprint)_

I smiled to myself. Ah yes, Snuffles is by far my favorite letter sending. Snuffles Sirius' animagus form as the big black dog that looks remarkably like the Grim... that means some time I can connect with my real family. I wonder what he meant by biting myself, though, and what the packets of blood were for. It was 11:58. I was so excited; 2 more minutes until I turn 17, 2 more minutes until I was a legal wizard, 2 more minutes until I can open up all those presents my friends (and others) sent me, 2 more minutes... until I learned the truth.

The truth, that I was a creature of the dark, bounded by the laws of magic to serve the dark lord, Lord Voldermort himself. The two minutes had passed, and Harry Potter ceased existance. Strange though, I don't feel dead. No, for I am undead. I am Harry Potter... the vampire.


	2. Chapter 1: The Night of Realization

A/N: Thank you **fifespice** for the review. you've encouraged me to type this chapter out from scratch today :

Disclaimer: I don't own J. K. Rowling's brilliant mind, therefore I do not own her wonderful characters

Vampire's Doll

Chapter 1: The Night of Realization

Harry's PoV

The moment it reached midnight, I was so excited with the fact that I was now seventeen-years-old, I did not notice a weird jolt going through my body. It wasn't unpleasant at all, no, it just seemed a little strange. Sometimes, strange can be a good thing, and other times not. Like the time when I thought that chocolate frogs were very strange, for they were food items yet (living?) frogs. That turned out to be a good thing, for they tasted exactly like the chocolate flavor I loved; plus, they came with these cool holographic witch/wizard cards. Something weird yet pleasant was also an event during fourth year, when junior death eater Draco Malfoy was transformed into a ferret. That, was one of the best moments of my life. Well, living life anyway.

I should really stop going off course. I suppose I am avoiding the subject, and need to explain why I am staring at the little packets of blood dear godfather had sent me. Well, after that strange feeling, I began to feel a little dizzy and light-headed. Nothing too unusual, I just thought that good for nothing Voldermort was planning something again; until I realized that my scar was perfectly fine. Frowning in confusion, I had sat on my bed and reached for the book that godfather had sent me, when I realized something was weird with my hands. Perhaps my eyes decieved me, but I seemed as if my fingers were a bit longer. My eyes might have not been wrong, for I had felt the same weird tingle. Then, I felt it on my other (right) hand, which was clutching the bedsheet. I glanced at it and felt that nothing was wrong. Maybe it was some weird growth spurt that all wizards (and/or witches) went through upon reaching of legal age. But I was very wrong.

I noticed the strange feeling in my mouth, and since I couldn't really see my mouth, I got off the cot the Dursleys called a "proper bed for someone so freakish." Right next to it was a small cabinet with two drawers. One stored all of my magic stuff (shrunken and locked, of course), while the other stored my daily needs such as clothing, toothpaste, and etc. I took out a small red mirror from the daily needs drawer and opened my mouth. Well, I was certainly "more freakish than usual." My canines had grown larger and more pointed, they could be considered fangs. I had stopped for a moment, a dawn of realization occuring; they WERE fangs.

Immediately, I had stared at the letter from Sirius. Every word now seemed clear. It was as if he was expecting me to turn into..this.. I looked at the book... vampire. The shock didn't really sink in, perhaps beacuse I was still in denial, or perhaps Hermione was right about me being thick-headed (at times even more so than Ronald. Ha, he'd probably hit me with a pillow or something if he heard me call him that). But it wasn't true, it couldn't be true. Wizards becoming of age don't just magically transform into Vampires, even I know that.

So here I am now, sitting on my cot.. sorry, bed, wondering and confused. I couldn't possibly be one of those vile creatures that followed Voldermort's order without question. I simply couldn't. Also, a vampire is only created when bitten, or through inheritance. Last time I recalled, the only thing close to biting me was a werewolf. Mom was like Hermione, incapable of inheriting a creature's traits since they were not half or pure blood. Not even a quarter. Dad was a pureblood, but he had an animagus form that was not a bat, so inheritance is out of the question. Now I'm just sitting on my cot... bed.. confused. I picked up the book and briefly flipped through it. No way, I'm not a vampire, I finally thought to myself. I don't eat house-elves, fairys, or fawns. I certainly am not moody when the sun is out, or have my powers faded in the presence of that light, and I definitely am not afraid of garlic or crosses. I think... though churches freak me out since Dudley would dress in that horrible Sunday Outfit, and garlic just tastes putrid. Ho hum, putrid. Now that's a word that would make 'Mione proud.

Off track do I go ever so easily. I took off my glasses for a minute to see if there were any cracks that made me think that I had fangs. Unfortunately, they say I'm blind as a bat without my specs.. eh, bad analogy. Must stay off the vampire topic. I am not a vampire. I am not in denial. Okay Harry Potter, as much as I enjoy arguing to myself, say this with me. I am not a vampire. I am not in denial. Good.

Rather, not good. All of a sudden, I was hungry. It was strange; since there was a big dinner with that horried Aunt Marge, I recieved a larger share of food since Aunt Petunia made dishes more of edible items. To tell the truth, I really like her cooking. Of course, not as good as Mrs. Weasley's, but still pretty good. She would make a better life as a cook than sitting around the house to play Bingo with old Mrs. Figgs of many dozen cats. One of her cats was extremely plump, I wonder how much blood I can get from that. Whoa, weird statement. Eww, cat blood. That was just gross. Like when Hermione claimed last (sixth) year that Crookshanks was infected with a strange pixie that made it bleed a sickening puce color. I will never forget that moment.

I looked at the shrunken packets of blood, wondering why I wasn't taking them all and sucking on the delicious liquid. Wait, what? I did not just think that. Concience mind of Harry Potter, repeat with me; I am not a vampire, I am not in denial. I am not a vampire, I am not in denial. Okay, good.

Putting the packets on the bottom of my daily needs drawer (since the other was unlocked), I began to explore some of the other presents. Ron had gotten me the newest edition of Wizard's Chess, where there were two chess boards; one floating on top of the other. The rules were a bit complicated, but it was interesting nontheless. The best thing about this edition was that the pieces don't die. With a simple reparo, it would be once-again, ready-to-go. Hermione was really thoughtful this time and didn't get me a book. The simple nature of it almost shocked me off the cot.. bed. It was a magically enhanced CD player- no batteries whatsoever, completely functional in Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley had knitted me a sweater, along with some of her famous home-made frozen pumpkin pie. I was a bit confused when I saw that Mr. Weasley had given me a book, very much like Sirius and Lupin (whos book was an Advanced Guide to the Dark Arts, Premium Edition). Sounds suspiciously like the effects of the nagging of a certain burnette Gryffindor girl.

Fred and George were so predictable; the latest batch of jokes from their successful shop, and a check for a percentage of their income. I was careful not to open the bag, more or so afraid that something will pop up unexpectedly. Ginny apparently had still not gotten over her obsession with me, she sent me a truckload of fake flowers, knowing that they'll preserve, and magically enhanced to smell like the real thing. Charlie had gotten me a pair of lovely red dragonhide boots (I'm assuming Chinese Fireball) and Bill had sent a clip-on earring with a cool design that looked like a four-leaf clover. I was suprised when Neville and the gang got together to buy me a rather expensive outfit that actually fit me. Juding from the looks of it, there was an eerie goth look to it, probably because of Seamus' influence.

Whether or not it was a good thing, I was flooded with fan-mail. Wedding rings, date requests, and truckloads of flowers. I had no idea what I was going to do with it all. Perhaps the same as last year- wonderful firewood if I do say so myself. I expected the expected.

What was unexpected, though, was to recieve a small parcel from a blonde I knew all-too-well. Death Eater wannabe, Draco Malfoy, Prefect of Slytherin. It was quite suspicious, and I didn't know whether or not to open the package. For all I know, it might be a piece of paper with some insult, or a bomb that could kill and explode number four, privet drive, along with all of Little Hangleton and Mongolia Crescent. Still, the fact that the pureblood prick had tried sending something to me was quite amusing.

Cursing my curiosity, I opened the parcel. There was a letter, which I read first. I always read the letters first.

Scarhead,

I'm just as unhappy about this situation as you. How come someone like you get to be a deadly creature of the dark, while I must watch? How you would be unhappy, is beacuse you can't get anything across that thick-headed skull of yours and would be in denial. This letter is probably making no sense at all. YOU ARE A VAMPIRE. DEAL WITH IT.

Now that I have made my point clear, I'll be on my way. Really, I had no intentions of writing this letter other than an interesting discovery I've found. It's the book that this stupid letter is attached to really. It's about your pathetic life. Shame I don't have one on the Weasel or the Mudblood. Yet then, they probably don't deserve to exist in my library's collection.

Oh, and the Dark Lord says hi.

FB

PS: he's gone dillusional I tell you! You half-bloods and mudblood friends are going to AKed by someone who enjoys muggle jigsaw puzzles.

As much as I am angry about the prick insulting my friends like that, I couldn't be more amused at his choice of conclusion. FB? Ah yes, I'd used to call him ferret-boy all the time after the incident. Good times, good times. This letter suprised me, really. The fact that Malfoy claims I was a vampire, which I certainly am not, and the fact that he's stating in his own humorous way, that Voldermort had a thing for muggle jigsaws. Who knew.

At the moment, I took the book in the parcel and placed it on the cot. I mean bed. Yes, bed. The book was also a hardcover leatherbound like Sirius' book, but it was in a dark gray color. On the front, was "Family: Harry Potter" in golden ink. Curious, I was just about to flip the book's cover open when I felt hungry again. Sighing, I carefully made my way to the kichens, fully aware that it was half-past midnight and if I make so much as even a creak to wake up the sleeping logs (somehow), it was another week of saying hello to Dudley's friends. I opened the fridge- cupcakes, roasted steak, bacon, and some fruits. Oh yes, tomorrow was their grocery shopping day. Sighing in defeat, I crawled back to my cot... bed.

I decided to take some of the frozen pumpkin pie that Mrs. Weasley had graciously sent me, only to realize that I couldn't eat it. I couldn't even take a bite, and that scared me. Usually, I was first to devour the pie since frozen deserts were delicious. Assuming that today was not a day I should eat pie, I turned to Hagrid's two packages of store-bought Honeydukes candy. Nothing can make me turn down candy.

How wrong that was. I took an acid pop and found myself hissing in distaste. Perhaps saying something in Parseltongue I was not aware of. Sighing, I yanked the repelled flavor and reached for another. A red one caught my view: blood-flavored lollipops. I've never really liked them, but now it was as if I couldn't spend a second without them. Perhaps I had a sweet tooth. Acid wasn't sweet, blood was. ... did those words just come from me? Perhaps so, seeing as I am now happily sucking on the pop. Something was definitely wrong with me, I just don't know what.

Harry Potter, I thought to myself, repeat after me. There is nothing wrong with me. I am not a vampire. I am not in denial

Sadly, though, I am all of the above.


	3. Chapter 2: Of Clueless Evil Laughs

Disclaimer: Argh, saying this makes me feel bad x-x Harry Potter and related co. all belong to the wonderous J. K. rowling

Thanks to fifespice and moonlite nite for reviewing :

Vampire's Doll

Chapter 2: Of Clueless Evil Laughs

Still Harry's PoV:

(to moonlite nite, next chapter will be in Draco's PoV. and sorry if the tense is a little weird, i'm trying to make it present tense... i think. not good with first pov )

That lollipop was simply delicious. I don't really know when I had started taking a liking to blood-flavored lollipops, but apparently I have no problem with it. I lie down on my bed and take the book Malfoy had sent me. I open it, not really sure what to expect. Well, I did expect the title page. Every book had a title page. Hermione made sure I knew at least that I knew how a book was structured by the end of a month. I wouldn't really say that I regret knowing the information, because she said that there was nothing wrong with knowing a little extra... but I don't think i really need it in life. Yet then, who knows.

So, after I see the title page, I am expecting the dedication page, but to my suprise there is none. Instead, I see a piece of writing material. I am confused; how can my entire history, or at least that is what I think this book is about, be on a piece of parchment? I take out the folded sheet, to find that the rest of the book is empty pages. I frown, staring at the parchment. I unfold it and see my name in a rather nice cursive handwriting.

Harry Potter. Age: Currently Seventeen

I look at my name closely, and see something else. There were two thin lines on top of my name, one connecting to the name in red ink- James Potter, and the other connecting to a name in green and pink ink- Lily Evans. wondered what the colors meant, since mine looks weird. The "H-A-R" part was in purple ink, the "R-Y" was in green ink, "P-O-T" was in a dark shade of red-black, and "T-E-R" was in a bold red. Very strange, indeed. This appears to be a very interesting family tree. I wondered what the colors meant, though.

As if by magic, which I would not have been particularily suprised about since my life is practically laced with it, a small key pops up on the parchment. Like any other key, I saw its neat organization. The bright red square on the key points to the words "heir of Gryffindor." According to the key, purple means pureblood, pink means half-blood, puce means squib, peach means muggleborn, green meant heir of Slytherin, yellow meant heir of Ravenclaw, blue meant heir of Hufflepuff. Gray means veela, browns means werewolf, and then, it was when I stopped reading for a moment, making sure that my eyes saw clearly. Dark red, the color that emborided the "T-E-R" of my name, means vampire.

Main PoV:

Hogwarts Castle was of course, a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Being a school, it was usually populated with many children roaming about, ranting of their current life, teachers usually found sighing at the fuss with their students. Normally in the summer, though, the schools would be abandoned or contain a few to repaint the walls. However, Hogwarts was unlike any muggle school. In fact, it was currently flowing with life (and not just the castle itself). Not in terms of people for population, but rather creatures.

Every summer, creatures of all kind would find sanctuary inside of Hogwarts castle. Ever since the rise of the Dark Lord, the side of the light had been persuading creatures to join their side. In exchange, they would find sanctuary to hide in the castle during the summer when students were out and there was no room. Who knew, perhaps the Dark Lord would attack their natural homes unexpectedly. Although Voldermort didn't do random things, one never knew.

Voldermort was a curious wizard, very curious indeed despite his bad habit of Avada Kedavra-ing innocent people or those who frustrated/dissapointed him. He was a half-blood, hypocritical, and just plain oblivious. While his appearance gave a meanacing look, at heart he was really no other than the Tom Riddle before he had discovered the chamer of secrets.

What the authoress is saying, is that while we all may believe You-Know-Who of many names to be the antagonist, and while we all may believe that he has some well-plotted plans of evil brilliance, he was a little confused in mind. To be more precise, he just grew old and never grew up. For if he did, then Voldermort, the one that so many feared, wouldn't be sitting cross-legged on his throne made of jelly.

That's right; jelly.

Voldermort never really knew what got into him. His mind worked one of many ways, although his most remarkable one would have to be the plotting process. It roughly involved a quill and some parchment, with a series of drawings that crudely showed a stick-figure Harry Potter dying with stick-figure himself laughing maliciously. Sometimes the drawing showed stick-figure Potter jumping down a cliff under the Imperius, and sometimes it showed one of his faithful dementors gobbling people up. Either way, we can not exaggerate to say that our favorite Dark Lord was creative in artistic ability and thought.

Though, to several of his hooded followers of evil, named the Death Eaters (seriously, who doesn't love that name of haunt and terror?), to say that he was losing his touch would be an understatement. Perhaps it was the absense of an Elixir of Life for so long, or unicorn's blood. Somehow, through his creative mind, he had just pondered way too much concerning his throne. At first, Voldermort had a marvelous throne of silver with snakes of silver embroided around. However, that one was oddly uncomftorable, as was the new throne he had gotten afterwards, a too-high chair with painted pictures of hooded figures. After a series of uncomftorable chairs, our brilliant Dark Lord has formulated a brilliant plan.

Since the thrones were uncomftorable about their hardness, why not try softness? But no, he didn't stuff a few cushions under him, he claimed it wasn't creative enough. No, he had paied 80 galleons to a pureblood furniture-modifier to construct him a chair of orange JELLY. He had really, truly, lost it.

"I am here, my lord," Voldermort heard, frowning. He wasn't expecting his faithful follower to come this fast to his call, but it was a good thing.

"Very well Lucius," the elder man nearly hissed, leaning back on the throne of jelly and noticing its squish. "You know very well why you are here."

"Correct," The platinum long-haired man replied, still kneeling with gray eyes fixed on the magically-swirling marble floor. "The mission went as expected. Bellatrix extracted the boggart blood successfully, and I have done so with the unicorn. Also, I have bought three vials for you, my Lord."

"Excellent," Voldermort gave his toothy grin, extremely pleased that his plans were not foiled as of yet. As of yet.. since that bratty Potter boy always ruined everything. Moving along... "you can place the vials on the top of my cabinet and the blood samples on the rack. You are dismissed for today, but do not forget to inform Serverus that his task is tomorrow."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucious stood and did as instructed, then flooed to Snape's house.

"Ah, always nice to have such a faithful servant," Voldermort hissed to no one in particular.

"Indeed it is," Nagini hissed back, slithering from the slime-covered ceiling that was her abode to the Dark Lord's... unique... throne. "Say, why the sudden change in throne? I thought you were happy with the blueberry scented one."

"I was," He hissed back, in perfect parseltongue. "Only, some of my servants started to stalk my throne."

"Oh," she hissed back, tilting her emerald-green scaled head and looking at the Dark Lord's bloodshot eyes. "May I ask, why jelly? Surely not out of smell preference."

"Shush, you." He glared, breaking eye-contact. "You know that wooden or steel thrones are uncomftorable. Besides, if I get hungry I can just chew on my chair instead of bothering to call servants for food. Much better than my bean bag and fuzzy cushion thoughts, no?"

"You're ridiculous," Nagini replied, after a short moment of silence, before she slithered around the chair, falling into slumber.

"Argh, no one calls me ridiculous!" Voldermort spoke in parseltongue, but she didn't appear to hear him, being in that sleeping state. However, he kept on ranting about how great his achievements were and how he should conquer all of the wizarding world.. followed by a macanical evil laughter, of course. Who doesn't like the macanical evil laughter?

Seriously... who doesn't?

The authoress would like to inform you all that jelly was a great substance, which is why there is a Jelly World on Neopets. Also, laughter helps with the cardiovascular system, something our dear Dark Lord here needs.


	4. Chapter 3: Half Veela

Disclaimer: If I, and not J. K. Rowling, DID own Harry Potter, then the books would be a LOT different, trust me. Oh, and credits to mugglenet for references to the Black Family Tree.

ty bunches for the reviews: Frenchie 283, Lisi the Slayer, -x-Bashli-x-, fifespice, Slytheringrules, and raneynr

:3

Vampire's Doll

Chapter 3: Half-Veela

Main PoV:

"What do you mean, you can't go through with the mission?" Lucius Malfoy glared at Serverus Snape, apparently very happy that floo powder had dusted his shoe.

"Do you know of any vampires willing to give blood?" Snape snapped, glaring.

"You can't actually tell me Ski...Sci..Scrim... Rufus Scrimgeour, won't." Lucius replied smartfully. That is not a word, but the authoress likes to use it anyway.

"He's not a bloody vampire!" Snape growled, still glaring full-daggers at the platinum-haired man. "And if he was, I'd know! Anyway, anyone from your family?"

"First of all, the Malfoys are unique of Seer and Veela descent, we do not mess with vampires, filthy creatures they are. Secondly, even if we do have one of those disgusting rodents living with us, they would be disowned as soon as possible. Thirdly, don't ridicule me by thinking that I would let someone of my own blood go to our Lord."

"Speaking of which, has your son come to inheritance?"

"Don't avoid the subject, Serverus," he eyed the spy with caution. "And yes, he has. I hope he makes a right decision in mindless mumblings and decide to join our Dark Lord. You are not to avoid the subject, there are numbers of those filthy creatures running around somewhere in Knockturn, you just have to know where to look."

"What was his name... Regulus... Orion..Ignatius Prewett. He was a vampire and related to you." Snape scoffed, " your aunt, actually."

"Well, he wasn't a natural-born vampire," Lucius noted, "and must I repeat myself? Do not avoid the subject!"

"I am not avoiding the subject," Snape rolled his eyes. "by all means, call one of your house-elves to find the locations of the closest vampires in London."

"Very well," Lucius stiffened, upset that he hadn't thought of that idea before. "Tok,"

As soon as the word left his mouth, a house elf popped next to the tall man. It looked eerily like Dobby, except its nose was shorted, face a bit more scrunched up with smaller blue eyes. "Tok is at your service, master," it said in a seemly troublesome high-pitched voice.

"Tell me which of Vamprie blood is closest to our location."

Tok's eyes glowed a pure blinding white for a short moment, before replying. Lucius looked shocked, and dismissed his personal house-elf. Straightening himself, he made eye-contact with the potions master. "I was right, Vampire blood is close."

"Oh? Then who?"

"Harry Potter."

Draco's PoV:

Oh, right. I suppose I should introduce myself since the authoress made this chapter in my point of view. Alright then, I am Draco Malfoy. That's right, perhaps you have heard of me. Heck, who hasn't? The great feared Malfoy name, associated with evil and dark magic. Isn't that right? Heir to the Malfoy name, so you think I'm an evil and filthy rich snob with no respect for non- purebloods?

Well, you're not that far off. I AM filthy rich, I DO have no respect for non-purebloods, I OBVIOUSLY am heir to the Malfoy name. But I'm not evil. Shocking, eh? At least, I consider myself not to be. I should tell you why, but the authoress is pushing me to stop the magnificent rambling and get on with the story, oh yes, of course.

I sat in my room, that day, it was my last moments being sixteen. My birthday, June fifth, at that time I was still in Hogwarts, year six. Head Boy and Prefect, I basically ruled all of Slytherin (not to mention some other lower-classes). It was the same every year, I would wake up feeling... like I woke up.. and find a few presents near by bed placed by the house-elves from what ever other house. Then I would do the usual showering and business, to stride down towards the Great Hall, around the time where owls would swoop down. I would have taken a seat, my usual seat, besides my true friend Blaise Zabini and pre-arranged fiance, Pansy Parkinson. It was my birthday, and it would have felt wonderful. Owls would have swooped down, most towards my table and dropped gifts. I would have took one from my parents and roughly glanced at a few of the treats fans had sent me before taking some and leaving the rest to Crabbe and Goyle.

I would have.

But, I didn't.

Because it wasn't in my control.

That night on June fourth, that very night, I was... not to say nervous since Malfoys never get nervous, but a tad anxious. I watched the clock read 11:55 pm and watched the hand tick off. Tick, tick, tick...

My excitement grew as the clock ticked, ticked closer to the truth...

At twelve, at midnight, I didn't whish myself a happy birthday and hit the hay. Instead, a weird feeling ran through my body. I frowned, wondering what was going on. Perhaps I was just exhausted from lack of sleep. Yes, that must have been it. Unsure, I crawled under the silken covers and tried to sleep. Ignoring the weird feeling pulsing throgh my body, as if I had somehow gained magic by force. Unable to sleep, I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on something, for I was getting dizzy with something that was not sleep. It was that dizzy feeling you get when you're drunk and about to pass out, or hit with the Cruciatus Curse. It was an unpleasant feeling.

My hair felt weird. I don't know how, just weird. Sort of like those pins and needles when you've been sitting on your leg for too long mixed with that feeling you get when you're walking up the stairs, reached the last step, and think that there's another. That feeling when your foot drops aimlessly. So strange, it was indeed. I tried to focus myself by looking at the bandage on my wrist. The blood had stopped for some time now. I felt just a bit of remorse, remebering where that was from. I was cutting myself a little too deep, couldn't control the blade that pressed against my skin, the uncertainty of my current life. It was when Har-.. Potter, when Potter told me that having a family was better than none, and hexed me. He said that I, above anyone else, deserved the Dark Mark. What did he know? He has no family. He can't feel the pain of mine. He can't possibly understand what I was going through. His father was dead, not a traitor rotting away in Azkaban. His mother was dead, not the only person to show you sincere love and push you away to death eater. I didn't want to be one of those, I didn't want to... I shoved away the memory, concentrating on the dark red stain on the bandage. I was satisfied for a moment, feeling a little less dizzy, until the dizziness was known. It was pain.

Perhaps, lack of blood, but to be more precise it was the pain. I felt a burning sensation along my back, it hurt more than Crucio. Biting my tongue, I tasted blood, Closing my eyes, I still wondered what happened. It was a minute that felt like eternity later, that the pain ebbed away slowly. I opened my eyes; it was still dark. It was cold, I suddenly noticed, as if something punctured a hole through my shirt. My eyes widened, as I felt a new feeling of control in my shoulderblades. I reached back, wondering what it was. I felt the warm ooze of blood trickling down my back, staining my silken top. I felt something soft, cold, like ice. I grabbed that cold item, what ever it was, and pulled it towards me. It felt like the cold thing was attached to something, but I didn't know what. I gave a sharp pull, and felt a quick wave of pain in my shoulderblade area, before it disintegrated. The cold thing was now in my hand. What ever it was.

I walked slowly towards the window. Since I was Head Boy, I had my own room. I had my own window, and I pulled back the velvet curtains. I lifted my hand to the window, and let the rays of moonlight glow, illuminating the object. For a moment, I saw a familiar face taunting back at me with eyes that looked like pools of emerald and hair a raven's nest. I wondered if I had imagined him staring at me, but as soon as he had come, he had gone. And when he had gone, I saw the object clearly. I gasped. The cold object, the soft object, was a dark-green feather.

I knew then, what my mother warned me of before father was sent to Azkaban. She said that I would change, only half-way, but mixed. I couldn't understand, but I do now. I am a half-veela. Like any other, I have a mate. As horrid it is to come of realization of this, that mate is Harry Potter.


	5. Chapter 4: UnExpected Arrival

A/N: Okay, I DO REALIZE that my first person and tenses and transitions, blah blah blah, really, really, suck. x I'm sorry if you're confused, but be confused no more! -evil cackle-

I shall be writing in PAST TENSE now, and MOSTLY 3rd PoV, since it is what i am best at. However, I still do first PoV's when necessary. :D

yay for reviewers : Lisi the Slayer, fifespice, SlytheringRules, Frenchie 283, and sakikaiba. -hugs- I wuv you all :D

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter and company, it wouldn't be a children's book. seriously. All hail to the glorious J. K. Rowling.

Vampire's Doll

Chapter 4: Un/Expected Arrival

Harry's PoV:

I wondered why I had fallen asleep. All I could remember was that the night before, was my wonderous birthday of reaching wizarding age. Ah yes, and what a unique birthday it was. Full of merry and cheer. Notice the sarcasm. Oh, Harry Potter doesn't use sarcasm? Get used to it and grow up. Tch, seriously. ... I do realize that I'm acting cranky and perhaps that's because I'm hungry. There's nothing to eat though, because I had finished all the food that my lovely-dovely pals had sent me. That's right, I devoured all of the three packages of honeydukes and Ms. Weasley's pie. However, that didn't seem to be filling.

I blinked, and reached for my glasses. Putting them on, I noticed that the house was unusually quiet. Glancing at the small clock by my bedside and squinting at it, with the little light in the house since I was not to open the lightbulb in fear of increasing the bill, it read 9:20 am. That was weird indeed. Normally, Dudley would be outside with Piers playing a prank on their other accquaintances, or causing trouble. Normally, Uncle Vernon would be knocking my door and yelling something along the lines of "Boy, get up now or we're locking you in here for the day." But none of that. Today wasn't normal at all.

I strained by ears by the door and pressed them to the wood. I could hear voices; small, whispering, voices. I wanted to go out there, but one of the voices was too familiar. From where, I could not recall. I head murmers... a deep voice that must have been Vernon's.. and a squeaky voice of Petunia's... I couldn't hear Dudley. Perhaps he was already out, or snoring. There were two other voices, one sharp and demanding, the other sly and smooth, like water flowing into a basin. I could hear small tidbits of their conversation, just a little.. and I could make out a few words of their slightly incoherent murmurs.

Vernon: ... not here... no one here.. son Dudley..

Petunia: ... posposterous... just Dudley... no one...

Sharp voice: here.. know is... here.. just here.. need..

Vernon: ...many times... tell you.. here..

Smooth voice: ... here indeed... Potter... need here...

I frowned at my name. Vernon sounded uncomftorable, and Petunia, in a state of panic. I didn't know whether or not I should help them or not. Being a Gryffindor as I was, many times I felt as if I should have been sorted into Slytherin, and agreed with the hat. I didn't have that much courage.. at least, not against my relatives.

Vernon: how many... tell you... not here...

Sharp Voice: no... cooperate... please listen to... will..

Petunia: leave... please... no business...

Smooth Voice: .. must take... blood...or...

Petunia: ... how many times... none here...

Smooth Voice: ... so.. many .. detect him...

Vernon: ... we... not know... that's not... dudley's out...

Smooth Voice: no... your son... not him... your nephew...

Petunia: none... no existance... not real...

Vernon: imaginations... children's... no one ...

Sharp voice: cooperate... will leave... soon...

Smooth Voice: ... said... do so...

Vernon: call... will... police...

From then on, I couldn't hear the murmurs of Aunt Petunia. It was strange, to say the least, that I heard thumps above me. Oh, right. She was running up the stairs, to her room I presume. Oh cool, that rhymed. I leaned closer, my head practically pushing against the door, hoping to learn more of the conversation.

Sharp voice: gone... no one knew... who really cares...

Smooth voice: we know you.. hand him over or... gets hurt...

Vernon: ... to phone.. cops will come...

Smooth voice: ... no choice, then we... PETRIFICUS TOTALUS

I jerked my head up at the voice. This was no light matter. It was a wizard, who just jinxed (probably) Vernon. Though I was happy that bastard got what he deserved, the wizard was coming in. I do not know whether or not I should hide... I'm not a Gryffindor. I'm not brave. Not at all.. I crawled under my cot... bed.. and under the thin sheets. Closing my eyes, I hoped that this was all a nightmare.

It wasn't.

I couldn't go to sleep. No... there was one thing to do. I packed my stuff, slowly as to not make any sound. Stuffing it all in my suitcase, and then shrinking my suitcase to fit my pocket. I was a legal wizard now, able to use magic outside of school. Besides, it's a defense mechanism. There were wizards at my house. From the sounds, dangerous. Death Eaters... i think. This place was no longer safe.. time to move.

I stuffed the shrunken penny-sized suitcase into my wallet, then that into my front jeans pocket. Pulling the blankets above me, I just hope that they would not find me. Perhaps then, after they leave, I could find my escape.

It had sounded like such a good plan...

but they didn't leave.

Main PoV:

"Did you have to go and do that?" A tall, hooded man asked, quite annoyed at his partner's choice of actions. "I mean, he's a muggle and all. Muggles are thickheaded. We could have consorted this without violence."

"And let him call security? I think not," The taller hooded man replied, hands over a silver cane with a snake's head glistening on top. Lucis Malfoy tugged at the hem of his hood, waiting for an intellegent response. When he recieved none, he smirked and trodded past the petrified man and told Snape in the hood, "search all the rooms. He's bound to be here somewhere."

"Right," Snape nodded curtly, before scurrying up the stairs. There were three rooms and a full-bathroom. He checked the bathroom, the tub, the cabinets, the trash, heck even down the loo. But there was no sign of the target. Frustrated, he went into one of the bedrooms. There was a messed-up bed and nothing more, perhaps a guest room. He went into the second room, the second-largest, and suddenly felt sick. He couldn't see the floor anywhere. All littered were crumpled clothings of huge size, and socks that smelled as if they hadn't gone through a good washing in weeks. Cringing, Snape knew the boy had enough common sense not to go here. Closing the door, he tip-toed to the last room. Creaking it open, the first thing he saw was the huge king-sized bed. The room was scented with a floral mixed with blackberries, and the walls painted a lush forest green.

"Get away," He heard a voice, it was the woman who had opened the door. Whats her name.. Petuin.. Petuna... something.. ooh, yes. Pet Tuna! Snape now scowls at the authoress' ignorance of his proclaimed brilliance. Moving along...

The woman was holding some sort of rod, using it as a weapon to try and fend the self-proclaimed death eater off. Yes, self-proclaimed. Snape would kindly like to inform you that right now the authoress is rambling.

"Get out of my house," she said, waving the rod a few times in his direction.

Snape held up his hands, as a normal muggle would do in surrender or peace offering. "Is there anyone else in the room?" he asked.

"No," she said, eyes still resting upon his form.

"Very well then," His eyes scanned the room, before promptly leaving.

"He left.." the poor confused woman was muttering, "just like that, he left.."

Then, she fainted.

She fainted not because of utter shock of the situation, but because the authoress cannot simply have her running around the house.

(meanwhile)

Lucis Malfoy had searched everywhere. Inside the cabinets of the kitchen, through the electric device that had nearly shocked him by the name of a fridger-a-tore or something, past all the eye-blinding lite-balls in the living room. He had searched inside the tee-wee, going wire after wire, and even behind the blend-or. Lucis reminds the reader that he is not stupid and the authoress is enjoying mocking him and laughing to her heart's content.

"Found anything?" He heard from Snape, who apparently descended down the steps.

"Not yet.." Lucis frowned, "where could he... that's it!" He jumped up and down like a five-year-old girl. But then realized that he had dreadful childhood memories and decided the reference the authoress made.

"What is it?" Snape raised an eyebrow, thinning his lips and staring at the blonde in slight confusion. It looked as if Lucis had just struck gold.

"Have you checked the cupboard under the stairs?" he had an evil grin, slowly striding to the small, encased "room." Giving a small knock, he peered inside, and saw a human-resembling figure covered with a blanket and head of black locks poking out from every imaginable side.

"Yes, yes, I know I'm brilliant," Lucis smirked, pointing his wand at the cupboard door. "Alohomora."

He expected a thin boy just seventeen, staring at him with vivid green eyes and a piercing stare.

What he didn't expect was for that boy to lunge at him and knock him off his cane.

XD to be continued


	6. Chapter 5: Escape to Diagon Alley

A/N: ty for the reviews, **unforgiveable curse caster, Avis, kristen, Frenchie 283, SlytheringRules, and Twilight 016. -heart- luv you all -**

Disclaimer: HP and the wonderful bunch all belong to J.K. Rowling. -sobs- me want shiny. credits to mugglenet for references.

Vampire's Doll

Chapter 5: Escape to Diagon Alley

Main PoV:

Lucius Malfoy was quite suprised, in fact so shocked, that he leaned against the wall for a few moments of silence before registering the slowly dimishing feeling of dissapointment and rage. He nodded to Serverus and motioned for him to follow the running Harry Potter.

Harry just ran, as fast as he could. Hell, death eaters were on his tail, attacked his relatives (horrid relatives, but still relatives), invaded a muggle place, and chasing him. What was he to do?

Harry slipped on his shoes, a feeling of panic. What if they had caught him? How would he escape? Why did they come to find him? He opened the door and dashed out, not bothering to close it. He ran, thoughts racing across his mind. Where would he go now? How long did he have..? The wizards could have easily apparated in front of him... quickly, he drew out his wand of phoenix feather, and waved it across the street. No one was watching, everyone was in their houses, sheilded from the raging summer heat...

Time seemed to freeze as Harry recognized that whirling gust of wind. He stepped back, leaning towards the sidewalk, and watched the sky grow temporarily dark. Almost too suddenly, a large bus came out of nowhere and opened its door. Harry had remembered this from third year.. how familiar the knight bus was. His last resort...

Harry climbed onto the bus and breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed and sped its way.The driver wasn't Stan Shunpike (for he was sent to Azkaban on a flimsy evidence of Dark activity), but a rather grouchy wizard who refused to mention his name. He looked a lot like Mad-eye-Moody, except for the electric-blue moving eye, the peg-legg, and the sharp crook on the nose. This driver had glasses and a strange style of hair, which Harry couldn't help but be reminded of one of Tonk's ...interesting hair alterations.

"Diagon Alley," Harry muttered, hiding his head from the driver, hoping not to be recognized for the sun still shone from the windows although the curtains were down in the passenger's section. He dropped a few galeons on the little tray and quietly made his way to a seat. Once again, that queasy feeling when the bus started accelerating speed. Like the whole world was being squeezed over and over again, the being doing so not achieving any satisfication in its work. It was as if gravity had changed course and split, a heavy pressure pushing towards the core of the earth while the other section pushed residents towards the dark endless area called space.

Harry was sure he had fallen asleep, for the next thing he had remembered was being shaken by someone. He blinked and adjusted his glasses, before realizing that he add to get off. Muttering a quick thanks to the person who had woke him up (who looked eerily like Urquhart from the Slytherin Quidditch team), he sprinted out of the bus, glad to be rid of the squished uncomfiness.

What coicidence it must have been, for he found himself right next to his destination of the inn. Giving an inner smile that the world was kind to him for once, Harry went inside, appreciating the magically-altered cooler temperature. He spotted Tom immediately, for the elder wizard was running back and forth, apparently making sure that he was attending to all of the customers.

"Is it possible to have the usual room?" Harry asked, as soon as he saw Tom breathing a sigh of relief before the next load of people would come.

"Oh, what brings you here?" Tom smiled pleasantly, satisfied to see a familiar face; he dropped a key into Harry's hand, "and yes, I have the room reserved for you."

"Thanks," Harry clenched the small silver key, making his way to the room. "Long story short, death eater chase."

"Ah, I see," Tom nodded thoughtfully, knowing better than to pester the boy about his actions. "Do be careful, enjoy your stay."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, making his way to the room. He inserted the key and opened the door, stepping inside to the familiar carpet and cozy atmosphere that was currently, just like the lobby, magically tempered to be cool in the raging heat. The bed was a comftorable twin-sized one with an intricate decoration of merpeople carved from presumably the finest redwood. The lights were pretty elaborate, swirling little procleain auguerys magically flying in circles around the lightbulb. There was the usual built-in kitchen, a wardrobe, shelf, and a small coffe/dinning table that was supported by a lush Nifflerskin rug (which also supported the mirror next to a chair). Closing the door and locking it, he felt a sense of safeness. (The authoress would like to say that she doesn't care whether or not safeness is a word, it just sounds nice). Alohomora could not open the door, for only Tom could come in with the spare key. Breathing a sigh of relief, the whole situation just slammed down on him, like an anvill that was following him around.

He was in a inn in diagon alley. He was being chased by two wizards. He was the victim of two death eaters. His old residence was no longer safe. Living amongst muggles was no longer safe. He was told of a vampiric heritage.

All of those, Harry could deal with. Except the last, which he still did not believe was true. It was not possible to become a vampire overnight, so he dismissed the fact as a late April fool's. Sighing, Harry enlarged his suitcase and placed everything in the drawers. There was some food in the fridge, and a pitcher of fruit punch. Harry graciously took both out and began his brunch. The grilled cheese sandwich tasted a bit plain, which confused him. The cheese flavor was not that strong, and the bread tasted of paper. Tom's dishes were usually fabulous, so he wondered if there was some newly-hired cook or house elf. Shrugging, he ate the bland-tasting chicken wings and cleared the table. Nothing new.

It was strange indeed, since Tom had told him that he was going to run the inn alone with a few friends, not hire people. His friend's cooking were all spice and pepper-filled dishes that made him drink more water. However, lunch was just plain bland and tasteless. Sighing, he sat on the little chair positioned right next to his bed. Leaning foward, he took a sip of the fruit punch, savoring the sweet taste. _At least something had decent flavor to it_, he thought, _why, this tastes delicious_. He noticed, though, that fruit punch was not supposed to be...thick. It did not taste this sweet, it did not taste a bit salty at all. Perhaps this was a special? Harry sipped the drink contently, like a cat lapping at milk. It tasted wonderful, and he had a warm feeling inside. The same warm feeling one has when they consume alchool of any type. It was as if he could melt in how wonderful it tasted.

Finishing the glass too quickly for his satisfaction, he then drank the entire pitcher. What ever it was, Harry just had to ask for the secret recipie. Washing up the used silverware and glass, he heard a small knock on his wooden door. He knew it was Tom, he just had the strangest feeling that it was.

"Come in," he called out, scrubbing the plate. He was allowed to use magic, but it was just too much of a habit to manually clean things after use.

"Hello Harry," Tom came in, closing the door and locking it behind him with the duplicate of the small silver key he had given the burnette.

"Tom, nice to see you again," Harry nodded, quickly finishing up the dishes and wondering how he had known it was the innkeeper...

MEANWHILE

"Mother, where has Father gone off to?" Draco Malfoy asked, wondering just where the highly-respected man (of the Dark Lord) ran off to. He was supposed to take Draco to Diagon Alley and purchase him a Firebolt, after that rant about how Potter always defeated him in quidditch since he had the latest edition in broomsticks.

"He's out with your godfather for mission business." Narcissa responded, quite glad that the man was out of the house. Her husband was always dissatisfied with their son, not noticing the fact that he was trying his best. If it weren't for the rule of arranged marriages between purebloods, they would have been seperate for the longest time possible.

"Oh, that sucks," Draco pouted. He was fine with removing the mask for his mother, one of the few people in the world that he trusted with his life. Her, and his two best friends- Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. He would not express any emotion other than negative ones to anyone else.. except occasionally to Moaning Myrtle who haunts the bathrooms for the sake of ranting, and Peeves the Poltergeist to scare him off. Ah yes, it was fun indeed.

"I heard he was supposed to take you shopping for a Firebolt today?" Narcissa smiled with amusement, putting some eggnog on her son's plate. "It's too bad, really, I just recieved an owl that he would not be back soon."

"That's not fair," Draco sighed, pushing the eggnog on his plate with the Malfoy-crested fork. Taking an occasional bite, he stared at the clock.

"Tell you what, I'll take you to Diagon, if that's all right with you." Narcissa said, quite entertained at the fact that he had made a snitch-resemblance by pushing his eggnog around.

"Really?" Draco's eyes widened, dropping the fork on the plate with a loud clatter, as the eggnog snitch recieved a giant dent of silver. Before waiting for her answer, he smiled happily and hugged her, muttering a "thank you."

All of you readers may wonder if Malfoy went insane or terribly OOC. The authoress just stares at you and tells you not to mind, for this is her mind of craziness and insanity.

MEANWHILE

"It's nice to see you again too, Harry." Tom nodded curtly, glancing around the room. "I take it that everything's in order?"

"Indeed," Harry agreed, "is that all?"

"I suppose so," Tom got up with a small apology, "sorry, there are so many customers trying to escape the raging heat outside."

"It's quite alright, I understand," Harry noted.

"When will you expect dinner?"

"Roughly seven, if that's all right with you."

"Yes, of course. That's fine with me." Tom opened the door and was in the process of closing it when he opened it a small bit again, "and what would you like? If it's something that will require an amount of time I shall start now,"

"Oh, nothing much." Harry smiled, "just a sandwich, preferrably ham and lettuce if you will please. And some of that delicious fruit punch, or what ever drink it was."

"All right then, I'll have it prepared and sent up by seven." Tom nodded once more, closing the door slowly. Before the door fully shut, he noted, "and that was not fruit punch, or any interesting mixture at all. It was just a pitcher of blood," before closing the door and walking towards the lobby.

Harry blinked. Why was everyone playing the same joke on him? It was really getting kind of old. Rolling his eyes, he jumped on the bed and pulled out one of the packets of "blood" that Sirius had given him. It looked the same...

... but it probably wasn't blood. Shrugging, he tore open the package and started to drink his fill. It tasted so wonderful, and he felt like flying, airy, without restrainments of gravity. It was like the wind blowing across one's face during quidditch, the rush of excitement. He finised the small bag all too quickly for his liking, and decided to read his family book with a boerd expression. Might as well learn something before school starts.

_"Contrary to popular belief, Harry James Potter is not a half-blood wizard, but rather a full blood with vampiri inheritance. His father (deceased approximately years of sixteen ago under wand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) was a pureblood wizard, descent from Gordric Gryffindor himself. Mother Lily Potter (Evans), deceased approximately the same time for same cause, was an inherited vampire and descendent of Salazar Slytherin from the side of Tom Marvolo Riddle."_

Suspenseful music.. daum daum daum, to be continued.


End file.
